


the birth of a boy that can save the whole world (i'm opposed to believing it's true)

by woahvechkin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, their relationship is complicated lets talk abt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahvechkin/pseuds/woahvechkin
Summary: “I thought I was going to die. When we were 16. I thought he was going to kill my whole family.”Harry reached a hand up to the light, pretending as though he could grab it. Make it tangible and hold it in his palm.“I did die. He killed me,” he said, barely a whisper. A confession. It felt dirty to say out loud.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 37





	the birth of a boy that can save the whole world (i'm opposed to believing it's true)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Branch Arms by Andy Hull!  
> This is basically a conversation I've had in my head for the past couple weeks since I (finally) read the books for the first time. Draco's character could have been so much more dynamic and I wanted to explore that! I wrote this pretty quick at like 2 am so sorry if it's bad ok enjoy <33

His phone was ringing.

Harry buried his head in his pillow, groaning. It kept ringing.

He turned his head, his alarm clock burning bright numbers into his eyes. Through a haze he read 3:47 am. He groaned again, willing the offending noise to stop.

The noise paused, and he let out a relieved sigh. Throwing the blanket over his head he willed himself to fall back asleep, though sleep was scarce these days.

His phone was ringing again.

Angrily, Harry shoved the blanket off of him and slammed his glasses onto his face. He picked up the phone, ready to shout at whatever telemarketer thought it a good idea to call so damn late when he read the caller ID. 

Malfoy was calling him.

Unsure, but still fueled by his rage, he picked up.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, Malfoy?” he hissed. 

There was no noise on the other end. 

“Hello? Malfoy?” 

A shuffle, a pause, then, “Potter.”

Harry had to stifle the string of curses he wanted to let out at him.

“What on Earth could you be calling me this late for?” he asked, dragging a tired hand over his face.

“I didn’t know who else I could talk to,” Malfoy said, hesitant.

“About what?”

God he wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to talk about what he suspected Malfoy wanted to talk about. 

“You’re the only person who knows, really knows, what it’s like to have him be a steady threat to you. To constantly be dogging your steps as though he were playing with his food. I mean,” he laughed a sardonic laugh, “my family was probably most hated by him behind you.”

There was no need to ask who he was. This was all this phone call could have led to.

“He hated me because I was brave enough to defy him. He hated your family because all of you are cowards,” he replied curtly. 

For a second, the line was silent, and for a blissful second Harry thought Malfoy had hung up. But still, from the other end came a sigh and another humorless laugh.

“We’ve always been perfect sides of the same coin, then. Hated by the same man for opposite reasons.”

Harry didn’t reply. He stared at the ceiling. The light from outside made ominous shapes he could trace with his finger if he stood up.

“I thought I was going to die. When we were 16. I thought he was going to kill my whole family.”

Harry reached a hand up to the light, pretending as though he could grab it. Make it tangible and hold it in his palm. 

“I did die. He killed me,” he said, barely a whisper. A confession. It felt dirty to say out loud.

“Did it hurt?” Malfoy asked.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “I was there and then I wasn’t. That was all.”

“I’m afraid to die,” Malfoy whispered. “I thought myself impervious before then. I thought I was untouchable.”

Harry lowered his arm. The light was coming no closer to his hand. 

“No one is untouchable,” he almost scolded. “Voldemort cared for no one but himself. He would’ve killed everyone if it meant he got to sit on a throne of their bones.”

“I know,” Malfoy murmured. “I didn’t believe it, you know. What everyone said about you.”

Harry snorted. 

“And what did they say about me? They’ve said so much.”

“That you saved the world. That danger could never touch us again because of your sacrifice. I thought it was rubbish. I wanted the danger, the glory it could bring my family name,” he finished quietly, “I was wrong.”

Bitterly, Harry rolled onto his side, his phone trapped tight between his ear and pillow. 

“You only began to care when it started to affect you, and even then you chose the coward’s way out. You’re as bad as any death eater out there. Some of us didn’t have the privilege to switch up on Voldemort when he started to inconvenience us.”

He could feel his words hit Malfoy like a punch and felt a sick pleasure at it. Good, he thought. Feel guilty. Harry didn’t want to hear some sob story when he’d been through hell and back. 

“You’re right,” Malfoy said after a long period of time that Harry only knew he hadn’t hung up during because of the soft breathing he could hear. “I have dreams sometimes. That I had stood up when I should have. That I saved people that didn’t need to die. That I could do my life over and fix things.”

“Is that why you called me? To clear your conscience?”

“No,” he sighed. “My conscience could never be cleared. I don’t want a sympathetic ear. I’m sick of everyone telling me I did what I thought was right, because I didn’t. I’m angry all the fucking time and I know you are too.”

Harry looked out the window. The tree right outside was swaying in the half light. He wondered how the breeze would feel on his skin, if it would be a Summer night’s warm or bitter and biting. 

“Of course i’m angry. I’m always angry.”

If he stared at the tree at just the right angle it looked like it was waving at him. The leaves looked gentle. 

“I saw so much death,” Malfoy rasped. “Death and torture. That was a normal Tuesday at the Malfoy Manor with Voldemort. The things he promised sounded so much grander than the reality of it, especially through the lens of a naive and ignorant child. I couldn’t imagine what that life would feel like.”

“You sounded so excited about the Dark Lord picking you specially for a mission. You sounded like a damn kid in a candy shop.”

Extending his arm off the side of his bed, he waved back to the tree. A moment later he felt silly and put his arm back down.

“I was. I thought it was what I wanted, but watching all of it unfold…” he trailed off. Harry wondered if there was a tree Malfoy was watching out the window, too. If he trailed the lights on the ceiling with his hand. 

“I had never known anything but comfort before then. I was loved. I was a school bully and I had never experienced real pain. Now I feel dirtied. I’ve seen too much.”

Harry closed his eyes.

“We’ve all seen too much, now. Children bore the burden of a war we didn’t start. You were forced to suffer the disloyalty of your father and I was raised to die.”

The line went quiet again. When Malfoy spoke again, his voice broke.

“When did we grow up? I feel like I missed out on my teenage years and skipped straight to adulthood.”

Harry let a bark of a laugh out.

“We should’ve been born muggles, then maybe we would’ve had the privilege of being children.”

Harry could hear Malfoy smile through the line.

“Normally I’d argue, but that sounds kind of nice right now.”

Harry smiled at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely smiled.

The phone was silent again, but now it was a comfortable quiet. It felt thoughtful.

“You know,” Malfoy began, then cut himself off. Harry drew his arm back up to the bed.

“What is it?”

“I had a crush on you at Hogwarts,” he said slowly, as though he were afraid Harry would hear.

Harry began to laugh again, small fits of giggles.

“I know.”

“I still do.”

He stopped laughing.

“I know.”

For the first time Harry became aware of his phone digging sharply into his cheek. If he moved, though, it felt as though something important might break. Something they’ve been building up. 

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy whispered. 

“What for?” He whispered back. The tension felt stifling. The air hard to breathe. The tree outside was still. It looked as though it were listening. 

“For loving you when I've done nothing to deserve it.”

Harry’s fist clenched in the sheets. The lights outside winked at him, and he thought he might like to step out with them. 

“You’re not so fucked up that you can’t love, Draco,” he said heavily. “And not so fucked up that you can’t be loved.”

A weighty silence settled over them, Harry’s words seeming to sink in.

“After all I've done? All I didn’t do?” he breathed.

“For these things. We’re perfect sides of the same coin, remember?”

The sheets beneath Harry’s legs felt cold, but he was warmed. Something had finally shifted between them, something that had been leaning on them like a heavy, pressing weight for years. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” Malfoy said. He could hear his smile.

“Goodnight, Draco,” He said back. 

Harry turned to the clock. It was nearly 5 am. Looking back at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but be glad Malfoy had called, and sank into a greatly needed sleep.


End file.
